The morning sun had barely begun to stretch across the treetops when Chase stepped outside, his breath visible in the chill air. For once, he looked energized. Since arriving at the forest, most of his days were spent meditating, hunting rabbits, or gathering herbs. Yesterday had been different—it was his first time hunting a magic beast. And today, he had a real mission.
Outside, Mason sat cross-legged on his favorite rock, basking in the morning rays like some ancient lizard. As Chase approached, Mason's lips curled into a crooked smile.
"I hope you're ready, brat... Good luck... hehe."
Chase frowned. "What about the weapon you promised me?"
With a wave of Mason's hand, a long spear materialized in the air and hovered in front of Chase. It was about 1.77 meters long, its wooden shaft smooth and unadorned. The blade at its tip gleamed a dull silver, shaped like an arrowhead.
Chase's brow furrowed. "This thing looks like it's for hunting pigs, not beasts."
Mason smirked. "What did you expect? A golden spear from the heavens?"
Chase grumbled as he snatched it from the air. "Stingy old man…"
Mason acted deaf, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight warm his face.
Three hours later, Chase was deep into the forest. He had passed several powerful magic beasts, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he avoided them with practiced care. His senses were nearly maxed out by now—any rustle or distant breath didn't escape him.
But luck always runs out.
Without realizing it, he stepped into the territory of a Black-Fanged Boar—towering over three meters tall, with obsidian hide and tusks like scimitars. The beast let out a guttural snort, and the chase began.
Now, Chase sprinted for his life, spear in hand, his lungs burning and legs pumping with air-elemental energy. The boar was faster—barely—but it lacked endurance. Still, if it caught up, there wouldn't be anything left of him to bury.
High above, Mason floated midair on a hidden platform, arms crossed, watching the scene with far too much joy.
"Look at him go. Hah! Just a bit more, brat... almost there..."
Of course, Mason was prepared to intervene if things got deadly—but Chase didn't know that. And if he ever learned Mason could fly, Chase might just die from rage instead.
"I swear," Mason muttered to himself, "if he ever finds out, he'll curse my ancestors and their ancestors."
Chase's stamina was running dry. Sweat poured down his face, and his muscles screamed. Still, he pushed on, air-element energy spiraling into his legs as he darted through the forest.
Suddenly, the dense trees ahead offered a brief moment of salvation. As soon as Chase passed into the thick brush, he noticed something strange.
The boar… had stopped.
He turned mid-run to look back and nearly stumbled.
The Black-Fanged Boar stood motionless, staring at him—not with rage, but with…pity?
Then, without warning, it turned around and calmly trotted back the way it came.
"What... just happened?" Chase asked aloud, panting. "Is it… tired? Wait… was that pity? That bastard's pitying me for surviving?"
He was right, in a way.
The boar had no desire to enter the area Chase had just crossed into. Whatever lived there was worse than itself. And in the twisted logic of beasts, letting Chase go was almost… merciful.
Undeterred and clueless, Chase continued forward, spear at the ready. Yet, the silence weighed heavy on his shoulders. Not a sound of wildlife, no rustling of beasts. The quiet was unnatural.
He whispered, "Where are all the magic beasts? It's way too quiet..."
But he brushed it off. His excitement returned the moment the cave came into view—its gaping entrance was ten times larger than the little hut he called home.
Far above, Mason's eyes narrowed. He reached out with his senses.
"Wait a second… I can't feel the beast's presence? Don't tell me… it died? That wasn't part of the plan! It was supposed to scare him, not... not gift him a bloody treasure trove!"
Inside the cave, Chase moved cautiously. His senses were on full alert—but the sight that greeted him nearly made his soul leave his body.
A massive serpentine beast lay motionless, stretching fifteen meters long and seven meters tall. Black scales shimmered faintly in the cave's dim light. Its three curved horns jutted from its skull like obsidian blades, and leathery black wings folded behind its muscular limbs. Before it, nestled like a final act of love, sat a large white egg.
Chase stood frozen for a moment.
Then, he looked around—and his jaw dropped.
Mountains of gold. Artifacts and treasures stacked like firewood. Herbs sprouting from crystalline planters. Among them—hundreds of Rising Moon Herbs.
He screamed with glee, "I'M RICH! I'M FREAKING RICH! HAHAHAHA! OLD LU, I LOVE YOU!"
He dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes. "I always thought you were a cranky old fart… but I was wrong… I was so wrong…"
With dramatic flair, he clenched his fist. "Master! I swear I'll train harder! I'll serve you till I die!"
Mason was still hovering above, his face pale with disbelief.
"What... no. No no no. The Winged Python-Dragon is dead?! During childbirth?! It's rank 10! Where are the death throes?! The cave tremors?! WHERE'S THE DRAMA?!"
He clenched his fists. "I planned this so well! A perfect trial! And now… now the brat gets a jackpot?! This isn't fair!!"
Inside the cave, Chase noticed a black spatial ring nestled among the loot. He slid it onto his finger and felt it shrink to fit perfectly. Grinning, he began stuffing everything into the ring—gold, treasures, herbs, and even the furniture.
Finally, he stood before the egg. It was warm to the touch. Curious, he reached out.
Crack.
The surface split. A tiny black leg pushed through. Chase blinked.
"Wait, don't tell me—"
CRACK!
The egg shattered completely, revealing a baby beast—sleek, black-scaled, with miniature wings and stubby legs. A golden horn gleamed on its forehead, and vivid green eyes slowly opened.
Those eyes locked onto Chase.
And in that moment, something clicked.
The creature crawled forward and licked his hand affectionately, its eyes overflowing with adoration.
Chase stood still.
"...What the hell."
Far above, Mason facepalmed. "That lucky brat… he just got a bonded beast that could evolve into a world-destroyer. I hate this timeline."